


the heart wants

by brevity_ofwit



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Geralt's POV, Poetry, vaguely about Jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:06:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26327599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brevity_ofwit/pseuds/brevity_ofwit
Summary: This is the poem I wrote that inspired my geraskier fanfic titled "witchers can be poets, too".
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Kudos: 5





	the heart wants

My home smells of the coast, of lazy mornings, of jasmine, of afternoon tea, of redwood and pine. 

My home has eyes brighter than the bluest sky, sweeping brown locks cropped close behind his ears, a near blinding white smile, strong arms and nimble fingers, a heart heavy but pure as gold. 

My home enjoys the finer things-- silks soft as his skin, colorful clothes tailored close and embroidered lavishly, rose petals and sweet salts in his baths that linger beneath fancy oils and expensive perfumes, golden rings inlaid with glimmering gems, thickest wool blankets in the dead of winter, plush bedrolls in the peak of summer. 

My home is always in motion, full of energy, buzzing with excitement-- for life, for the smallest, blink-and-they’re-gone moments that make you fall in love with it, for love itself, for grand gestures and romance, for passion and the sting of its flame, for warm sunshine in the early morning, for the ancient rustle of the forest, for simple ditties and complex melodies, for travel on the open road, for its promise of adventure, for loud and bawdy tales, for gentle evenings beneath a star-streaked sky, for companionship and sweet touches, for quiet meaning. Insatiable, he is, but earnest and good-natured; a child, eyes wide and observant, faith unbroken, quick to trust, curious wonder ever stronger. He roams the continent searching for experience, desperate for it in a way only those with an end can. 

My home is everything. He is _everything_ and deserves everything, but I cannot provide. For what could I, an unkindly creature, a world-hardened forager, a scarred and restless beast, a stranger to love and affection-- what could I give? What could he want, from me, a monster in my own right? He gives me so much and I am afraid of it. Of what it means. Of what it will lead to; a steady building stream of resentment, anger at always being the one to give but never one to receive, of always having to be bold, make the first move, of gentling sweet nothings into my skin but never being treated to the same doting. Relationships aren’t totally a quid-pro-quo-- but aren’t they? You must love to be loved, so in some sense wouldn’t one need to _be_ loved to keep loving? When will the dam break, when will he finally have had enough, when will he run out of love and leave me? 

My home will one day leave me, and I will no longer get to call him that, but I will always love him. He will always own part of my heart, will always have a home in me, beside me, even if all I have is a fire, scant shelter, and whatever animal strayed too close as food. 

It’s incredibly much to ask of him, but with patience, I could get there. I could learn to give my love as freely as him, to shower him with praise instead of keeping silent, to press those sweet nothings into his skin and worship. I am nothing if not a quick study, but I would want to take this slow. Under his practiced guidance and the night sky, I want to learn thoroughly, correctly. Become what he is to me so that he might never leave me. 

_Anything_ , just let him never leave me. 

_Anything_ , just let me keep the only home I’ve ever known. 


End file.
